


Run Away From Solitude

by sprayedwithcrab



Series: It'll be okay. [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Spoilers, Depression, Gen, Good Friend Ned Leeds, Hell, Hopeful Ending, Hurt Peter Parker, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, Nightmares, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Panic Attacks, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Precious Peter Parker, References to Depression, Sad Peter Parker, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Doubt, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Self-Reflection, Skip Westcott is mentioned., Suicide Attempt, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, alone time :(, dont give up., duh - Freeform, fgsdjkadvbkna, if thats not okay, kinda in depth, please dont read and stay safe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-08-02 19:51:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 12,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16311635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sprayedwithcrab/pseuds/sprayedwithcrab
Summary: May is dead.It's been two weeks, and Peter hasn't told anyone yet. He's been kicked out of the apartment, and hasn't been to school since he got the phone call. Happy's been ignoring him, as usual. Tony's been busy trying to get the government to pardon the Rogue Avengers. Peter's been in solitude ever since that night.Afraid and heartbroken, Peter knows he can't do this alone.Doesn't mean he won't try to anyway.





	1. Desperation.

It's been two weeks. Two weeks since Peter had last seen May's face. Two weeks since he'd last been at school. Two weeks since he'd contacted Ned, MJ, or anyone for that fact. Two weeks since he'd received the phone call. It's been two weeks since he'd had a full night's sleep, since he'd last eaten properly. Two weeks since a drunk driver drove his vehicle right into the side of May's car. Two weeks since he'd been inside that hospital, nostrils burning. Two weeks since May was declared dead.  It's been two whole weeks since Peter's entire world had _crumbled_ in a matter of seconds.

* * *

 He remembered sitting in the apartment, on the sofa, enjoying the soft, homeliness of it all. He had sat in a comfortable silence, waiting for May to come home. She'd be only a small while longer, just a few minutes until she'd be back and they'd have dinner. He had been sitting, his legs up on the table, looking at something on his phone. He'd heard sirens in the distance, but didn't move from his spot. It was Wednesday, after all. Wednesdays were aunt-nephew bonding time. He had nearly jumped onto the ceiling when his phone suddenly rang out, the sharp, piercing tones shattering the peaceful silence the moment it'd started. Jolting upright, he felt something wrong. His stomach churned, his fingers trembling over the " _accept call_ " button. His senses screamed for him to turn it off, that he wouldn't like what happened next if he answered. The unease settled and sunk to the bottom of his gut, sitting there like a stone. He had noticed the time stamp, and that May was late. Part of him knew that what was about to happen would be devastating. All that had been left was to-

He clicked accept. Shakily, he had held the device up to his ear, dreading whatever was to come.

"H-hello? Is this Peter Parker?" a woman's voice, a sad, shrill tone, echoed out.

"Yes. Who... who is this?" Peter, hesitantly, replied, his voice quivering with fear.

"This is the Queens Memorial Hospital. You are listed as an emergency contact for a May Parker. She's in critical condition. I'm sorry, but it is highly unlikely that she will make it." The woman had a sickly sweet, sharp voice. It was mellifluous, and it flowed soft and sticky, like honey, but it also cut through the air like a knife. There was a false sympathy dripping from her words, pooling in Peter's ears like blood, thick and painful. The moment she had said it was the hospital, it had felt like Peter's heart had simply stopped in his chest. The woman on the other end clearly held no real sorrow for the boy, and hung up almost immediately. 

His clothes had instantly felt too tight. The sounds around him were blaring, and he subconsciously noted that the pace of his breathing had quickened. What was once a silent, calm room was now a painfully loud, panic-filled prison. It had been too bright, the fluorescent lights burning in his eyes, which were already red-rimmed and stinging with tears. The air felt like lava, thick and hot and it wasn't entering his body fast enough. He couldn't get enough in. It was too dense, he was too constricted, and it felt like the building was caving in on him all over again.

In a moment of blank decision-making, he ran down the stairs of his apartment building and out the door into the harsh, cold November night air. The ice-like atmosphere was biting into him like a hungry pride of lions, tearing him apart. But, he didn't stop. He couldn't stop. He had just kept running, and running, not acknowledging the countless cars that nearly ran him over, not noticing the fact he was outside in six degree weather in nothing but a t-shirt and sweatpants. He had just kept running, and running, and running.

Arriving at the hospital, he hadn't stopped to spare the building more than a glance. He barrelled into the office, the clean, alcohol-filled air burning at the back of his throat and the glaring white of the walls and floor and ceiling searing his eyes, neither of which stopping him. Out of breath, he had gasped out a "Peter Parker for May Parker,  _please_ ," with a twinge of desperation he'd never before voiced in his life. Seeing the distraught boy before her, the check-in nurse immediately led him down the hall to where May was.

"I'm so sorry, sir, but she was declared dead about five minutes ago. There was nothing more we could do. She suffered an extremely severe head injury on impact." This lady, unlike the one from earlier, had an earnest sorrow in her voice, reaching out to comfort the now-sobbing child in front of her. He had ran in, and upon seeing May's cold, dead expression, collapsed on the floor beside her, grasping her freezing hand firmly in his. Peter had thought he'd known grief before, but it was completely different to lose someone and suddenly realise that you're completely  _alone_. Peter had no one left. May had been his last living family member, and now she too had been ripped from his life. 

Peter had stayed sat there, next to May, for the next 6 hours, wondering how anyone could describe a dead person as looking like they were sleeping. He didn't understand how people never noticed the way that all warmth and happiness had been drained from their faces. They never, ever looked "relaxed"; they just looked  _dead_.

* * *

Peter had left the hospital not soon after. He went back to his apartment on autopilot, and began packing a bag. He registered that he'd soon be kicked out of the apartment, given that there was no adult alive to pay the rent anymore, so he needed to be ready for when it finally happened. The thought of calling Tony crossed his mind, but he instantly dismissed the idea. Tony didn't have time to deal with broken, clingy teenagers. He was far too busy working on the things that actually mattered.

The next day, he'd gone to the bank and withdrew $998 from the bank account Tony had given him. The amount was just under $1,000, so he knew it shouldn't alert anyone. After, Peter had gone home and eaten as much as he could stomach with his miniscule appetite. Ignoring concerned texts from his friends and the phone calls from school, he repeated the process for the next week and a half. In his final days in the apartment, he got ready for what came next.

Peter had no idea what caused him to think of running away. Originally, he'd begun the process without thinking. But, as the deadline for apartment's dues crept closer and closer, and he refused to go to Tony or anyone else, he told himself it was all he could do.

* * *

The day came. He left the apartment, and bought a bus ticket. He'd hidden the Spider-Man suit where no one would ever find it, and left his phone behind. All he had left was his bag and its contents, his old webshooters, a couple bottles of web fluid, a bus ticket, and no final destination.

Peter looked out into the distance as the engines of the bus started up.

He was alone.


	2. Retaliation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for self hatred and feelings of helplessness.

Peter's been on the bus for three days now. He had been expecting for the bus driver to come and say "end of the line, kid" about two days ago. Apparently he'd caught an international bus. Apparently, it was going to Mexico. Lucky Peter.

He's starving, and cold, and he's shaking like a leaf when the bus driver asks him if he's a runaway. Peter ends up having a long chat with the man; he'd learned that his name was Matt. He'd suggested that Peter get off before they reach the destination, as borders can be a bitch to deal with, and he ended up getting off somewhere in Oklahoma. He had waved a friendly goodbye to Matt, and thanked him. Not even five minutes after getting off of the bus, Peter was complaining to himself again. For some reason, it was still ridiculously cold. As a more cynical part of Peter's mind supplied " _May chose a shit time to die_ ", perhaps to lighten the mood, he felt even worse than before. Now, he was cold, starving,  _and_ sad. Great.

After an internal struggle, Peter made the executive decision to buy food. His abstinence from eating for a whole three days was killing him, especially with his shitty ass fast metabolism, and not even his non-existent appetite could tell Peter otherwise. So, he pulled into a cheap-looking restaurant and order the most calorific meal he could see. He would need it.

* * *

After the lovely, disgustingly unhealthy dinner, Peter climbed onto the roof of some building. It would be colder there, sure, but it would also be much safer. Although, a deeper part of Peter asked if that would be so bad, but he had quickly shaken the thought off. He was exhausted, and had no patience to deal with feelings right now. He just wanted to sleep.

When dawn finally arrived, Peter felt just as shitty as he had before going to sleep, albeit a bit less nauseous. Making that observation, Peter made a mental note.  _Tip- don't eat a shit ton of food after days of not eating_. If anything, Peter considered himself quite lucky he hadn't thrown up. Even though his luck had ripped all of his family members away from him. Oh no, wait, don't think about  _that_. Oh dear, he's crying again.

Peter sat atop the roof for a while before getting up and going to a small, local park. It was all so... strange. Everything around him was just so calm, and he felt nothing but this empty despair and numbness. As he set himself down by a tree, a little girl ran up to him and asked him if he wanted to buy any girl scout cookies.

"Do I fucking look like I want cookies?" Peter had immediately snapped, and the girl had flinched away from him as if she'd been struck. The girl looked no more than seven, and stared intently at his puffy, red face as tears of her own welled in her eyes.

"Y-yes! You looked sad, and when I'm sad, cookies make me feel better!" she wailed. Peter's heart broke, and he gave in.

"Okay. I'm-I'm sorry for snapping at you. I'm just really upset, is all." he grunted the apology out through gritted teeth,  _really_ not wanting to fake a smile for this little girl. Why didn't she know that he's lost everything, and now she's just come by and asked him if he wanted  _cookies_ , of all fucking things. God, couldn't she see that he just wanted to be alone? No, wait. Alone is the exact opposite of what he wanted. He was scared, and sorrowful, and he didn't want to interact with anyone because that meant putting in the effort to be  _social_ , when all of his effort was drained by the empty, bottomless pit of sadness. The ache in his chest caved inwards, and he choked back a sob. No, he wouldn't cry here. He wouldn't recall how he was never going to see  _her_ again, and how he was never going to see Mr. Stark again, or Ned, or MJ, or Ms. Potts. He wouldn't remember how his apartment, along with all the memories inside of it, was gone and no longer his. He wouldn't, he wouldn't...

* * *

  _Goddamnit._ And now he was crying, wonderful. Also, the little girls mother had just caught up to her, glared at Peter, and walked off. He curled up, everything spiraling around him. His fingers dug into his arms, hugging himself. He grabbed fistfuls of his jacket and just  _cried_. He didn't want this. He didn't want to be alone. He didn't want to be in Oklahoma. There was no one here, no one who even knew his name. He just wanted to see someone he recognised. Hell, he'd even settle for Flash. He just wanted- no, needed-  _someone_. Someone to drag him out of this hole and tell him how stupid he was to think he could battle this life all alone.

Peter sat there for a while, and realised that thinking that someone was coming for him was irrational and frankly not plausible. The crippling loneliness crept in, along with the fear and pure, unbridled terror. What was he thinking? He couldn't have any sort of future like this. He couldn't even get a job.

He was Spider-Man. Or, had been. He was supposed to be strong and powerful, able to retaliate and resist against challenges he faced, but...

If that was the case, then why did he feel so helpless?


	3. Trepidation.

Tony was frantic.

It had been weeks since he'd last seen Peter. Normally, he'd chalk it up to how busy he was. He didn't have time for Peter, despite how much he wanted to. But, he always kept up on the texts Happy received. It was his "happy place", as his therapist would put it. So, when Peter didn't text for one, two, three days, Tony knew something was wrong. He'd brought it up with Rhodey, stricken with concern, but Rhodes had told him he was worrying too much, that the kid was just taking a much-needed break. Tony had been hesitant to believe him, as Peter didn't take breaks, because  _Mr. Stark_ ,  _crime doesn't sleep_! But, he trusted his old friend, and got back to the shit ton of paperwork he had to fill out before he went to D.C.

Oh, how wrong he'd been. When Friday notified Tony that Peter hadn't attended school in a week, he'd know there was something terribly wrong. But, he was in Delaware, and there wasn't anything he could do. So, he called Peter. 

No one had picked up.

Maybe the kid was busy, so he called again.

No answer.

At this point, Tony was beyond concerned. He was scared. Terrified, even. Peter  _never_ ignored his calls, ever. If the kid wasn't picking up, then there was no way he wasn't in trouble. He had to be here, though. If he didn't go to these meetings for the next week, it was highly unlikely the Rogue Avengers would ever be pardoned. There was nothing more he could do. Not to mention, Ross was waiting for Tony to just give up. To just go back to locking himself in the labs for days on end, rarely eating and avoiding sleep as long as he could. Also,  _Pepper_. O-hoh boy, she was  _not_ a woman you wanted to cross. So, he waited.

* * *

May Parker was dead. Died two and a half weeks ago. Furious that Friday hadn't told him, he was fed the excuse that family hadn't wanted her death released to the public. Immediately suiting up, Iron Man flew to Peter's apartment. He knocked again and again, practically pounding it into a pulp. An old lady who lived next door came out of her apartment to see what was going on, just to see the one and only Anthony Edward Stark nearly punching down a door.

"You know, no one lives there anymore." she said, a sad look and her face. Shocked, Tony turned to meet her gaze.

"What?"

"There used to be a nice young boy and his lovely aunt living there, but one day, the aunt never came home. The boy left a few days ago, with a large bag in his hand. I think the rent was due, for them." The woman looked down at the floor. "It's kind of sad. They were nice neighbors." 

Tony didn't hear anything past "the boy left a few days ago, with a large bag in his hand". Peter was  _homeless_ , and he'd been complaining about  _paperwork_.

Fuck.

* * *

Tony hasn't slept in 72 hours. How could he? His kid was alone and dealing with the loss of his entire family and he had just sat by, working to get the very people who had left him to die pardoned. He had noticed the warning signs, the red flags, but what did he do to help? Jack shit. 

And his kid was out in the wild because of it. And, Peter had clearly run away and was trying to cover up his tracks. Tony couldn't find him  _anywhere_ , and he had access to the most advanced technology in the world (aside from Wakanda, of course). Also, Peter had a metabolism that requires him to eat three times as much food as a normal human- so what was he to do? Tony knew Peter had withdrawn a lot of money from the bank account Tony had given him, but that wouldn't last forever, and there was no way for Peter to get a job. He was only 15, after all.

Trepidation filled his stomach and his chest and soon his whole body was shaking. Lack of sleep was causing him to perseverate over little, minor things and all of the possible ways Peter could be dead and Tony wouldn't even know. Rhodey came in and told Tony to sleep. After a half hour of persuasion, he gave in, and slept through the next day (something he'd never forgive himself for. Peter could be dead and he was just sleeping the days away? How pathetic and selfish).

As Tony had drifted away, he held the thought of Peter close to him.

He had to find him. He just had to.

 


	4. Dissatisfaction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for referenced self harm, suicidal thoughts, and self hatred.
> 
> Please read the end notes.

Peter was tired. He had picked up as many shifts as he could with the new job, and he was basically working 90 hour work weeks. He knew he was running himself into the ground; he didn't care. He was making money, and the grueling hours kept his mind off of everything. So, really, he was grateful. Of course, he didn't have the time nor energy to actually _feel_ the gratitude, but he was grateful nonetheless. He was under a fake name and I.D.- he's 18 now, according to the community, and his name was Jeremy J. Smith. 

A loud shout ripped through his thoughts.

"Jeremy! Get here right now!" a deep, angry voice echoed down the hall and to the register Peter was running. Sighing, he got up to meet his short-tempered boss.

"You were supposed to clean this up. Why isn't it done, Jeremy?" he jabbed a finger at Peter.

"I'm sorry sir. I was busy serving a customer, and I forgot. It won't happen again." Peter monotonously replied, eyes glassy and glossed over. 

"You're lucky you're such a good worker, Mr. Smith, and I like you, because this is the third time this week and I cannot have you slacking off." The man failed to mention that Peter, of the three employees that worked there, was the most important and carried the entire store on his back.

"I know. Thank you. I will see to it that it does not happen again." Peter looked down at his feet and walked to get a mop to clean the spill up. Peter was unsure why he kept going.

* * *

Tony has hacked into every security camera and database he could think of, and was still no closer to finding Peter. The public was beginning to notice how frantic he was, and were making assumptions as to why. He has had to make multiple speeches as to how  _no, New York is not being invaded by aliens again,_ and  _no, your lives are not in danger_. All of which wasted time that should have been spent finding his pseudo-son. To add to his stress, the Rogue Avengers, who'd just been pardoned thanks to him, were moving in. Meaning he would have to explain everything quite soon.

God, he wished he didn't have to. Every second he let tick by when he wasn't looking for Peter was a second Peter could be spending dying, or worse.  _Fuck_ , there could be a worse. And that terrified Tony to an extent that no one else could understand. Looking through everything over and over, Friday running facial scans, looking for  _some_ hint or clue that could possibly lead him in the right direction because as of right now, he's going off of a face and that's it. Peter had left everything that could be track to him behind. Peter, for some reason, didn't want to be found. And Tony'd be damned if he didn't feel remorse for brushing the kid off when he had needed him most.

All Tony could do now is keep searching.

* * *

Peter felt a surge of dissatisfaction roll through his body when he lay atop his roof-shelter that night. His boss had told him to go home, a sad, pitying look in his eye when Peter had swayed and nearly fell over.

_"Okay, Jeremy. You're clearly working yourself to death, and you've not gotten enough sleep. Go home, you'll still be paid, don't worry. I'll have Noah cover your shift tonight."_

Didn't he realise that Peter  _wanted_ to keep working? His lip curled up. The asshole had just fucking rid him of his coping mechanism, and now he had to sleep and deal with the horrible, endless grief that echoed through him.

A small, weak part of Peter called out that his boss was just being kind and looking out for him, but the hole inside of him swallowed it up. Peter just wanted to stop feeling this way. Either he was numb, or he was wracked with guilt and sadness. He just wanted it to end.

His fingers dug into his arms, and he felt the skin tear open and start bleeding. He didn't care. If anything, it felt liberating, in the worst way possible. 

Tears streamed down his face, and sob bubbled up in his throat.

He just wanted to end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Running away won't solve your problems. Closing yourself in won't help anything. What I'm trying to portray is that only with other people's help can you get better.
> 
> You can't do this alone. No one can. There will always be someone out there to help you. You just need to find them.
> 
> Please, don't be afraid to reach out.


	5. Concentration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for referenced self harm and self hatred.
> 
> Please read the end notes.

"Tony?"

A voice behind him rung out. His hair was disheveled, and he hadn't showered in weeks. The bags under his eyes were deeper and darker than they'd ever been before.

"Not now, Rhodes, I'm concentrating." He replied back, his vocal chords audibly nearly giving out. He ran his hand through the greasy mop on top of his head. 

"It's Steve, Tony. The rest of the Avengers are here, too. Is something wrong?" Steve sounded so concerned, his tone filled with worry, and it made Tony's heart ache. Because Steve would  _never_ understand. Steve would never know what it was like to search endlessly for a child you considered to be your son, knowing that you should've been there for them. Knowing that you should have payed more attention and worried more. So, naturally, Tony whipped around and snapped back at Steve, head held high.

"Oh, so you care so much if I'm okay  _now_ , and not when you basically left me to die in Siberia?" There were old tear tracks on his cheeks, and he feared they may be renewed. "I. Cannot deal with this right now. I have so much to do and so, so little time, and you are  _not_ helping!"

Steve simply flinched back as if he'd been hit, stunned at both Tony's physical appearance and the fact that this man, who he'd pegged to be the more unemotional type, was openly  _crying_ in front of him. Not to mention the biting words that sunk their teeth in where it really hurt.

"Oh my god, Tony!" Steve, as if suddenly shocked out of his trance, bolted over to his teammate and held him, concern overwhelming his previous grudge against the man. "What happened to you? Rhodey told me that you two haven't directly spoken in weeks? What happened?"

Giving in, Tony melted into Steve's embrace and sobbed. He'd never been this open with anyone besides Peter and Pepper before, but he was too tired to notice or even care. The other Avengers gradually joined them and each played their part in comforting him. After about five minutes, Steve pulled away from the tearful, broken man.

"H-he's gone, _and I can't fucking find him._ " Tony hiccuped, and the team all shared a look.

"Who?"

And Tony began to explain to them about this ridiculously energetic, pure, innocent child who'd somehow managed to win him over.

* * *

Peter glanced at the clock. Two more hours until his shift ended. Normally, he would have been upset at the prospect of leaving the store. However, now, he needed to get somewhere he could keep his head down. He recalled a conversation he'd had with one of his customers.

_"Hey, you know, you look a bit like that kid who's gone missing in New York, except a bit thinner and a lot more tired." the old woman had stated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Peter's eyes had widened at that._

_"What?" he had inquired, tilting his head to the side._

_"Oh, you haven't heard? The Avengers filed a missing persons report for a child named Peter Parker. Of course, Mr. Smith, you appear to not be him, but even so, it is quite interesting, is it not? I'd usually think it weird that they care so much about one kid, but they claim that he was Tony Stark's personal intern. You hear that? Personal intern! The kid doesn't look more than 15. I'll believe it when I see the official forms." The lady had chuckled, and smiled at Peter before taking he receipt and leaving, the bell above the door letting out a small ring. Peter's heart had begun beating twice as fast in his chest, and he was on the verge of a panic attack. To ground himself, he'd dug his fingers into the small, individual cuts on his arm, terrified. They were_ looking _for him._

He waited. As soon as he'd realised his current situation, he'd pulled up his hood in a feeble attempt to conceal his identity. Although, a selfish little part of him wanted the Avengers to find him. He wanted to be found and loved and reminded that he wasn't alone. Of course, he'd immediately shook the thought away.  _Pathetic. You really think they care about you? They're just trying to find you in order to make sure an enhanced person isn't just out there, free to do whatever he so pleases._ Sighing, he greeted Noah as he came in and left the store. Things were about to get a lot harder for him.

* * *

Both Steve and Rhodey had immediately demanded that Tony go take a shower and sleep. Upon hearing his fruitless excuses, they'd assured him that they would continue his work while he was asleep and would file a missing persons report (something which, in his panic, Tony hadn't thought to do). He had slept for a full 36 hours before waking up again. He awoke to much more progress having been made, and multiple more leads on Peter's whereabouts found.

They were going to find him.

Even if they had to search to the end of the world and back.

_They were going to find him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Depression isn't nice. If you or someone you know could be a danger to themselves or others, please either find help or help them. It isn't weak to need help.
> 
> Depression and the likes is romanticised so much, I think it's often forgotten just how brutal and awful it is. The idea that people want to die is horrible. That they are so miserable that they want to end their own life- something you only get one of- is just so, so terrible and I can't believe that people go around promoting it, making it seem like a good thing.
> 
> It's not. It never will be. It's disgusting that people actually think it's cute and 'aesthetic' and I hate that it's spread like that.
> 
> Depression isn't pretty. Suicide isn't pretty. Our end goal is to be happy, and everyone matters just as much as the next person. You deserve help if you need it, and so does everyone else.
> 
> If you're a victim, don't be afraid to reach out your hand for help. If you know someone is a vitom, don't be scared to offer your support.
> 
> This is going to sound cheesy and cliche, but if we all work together, we can be happy.
> 
> Stay safe.


	6. Fragmentation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for referenced self harm, referenced attempted suicide, and self hatred.
> 
> Please read the end notes.

Tony had made himself look somewhat presentable. Rhodes had told him that he was no help to them and finding Peter running on 8 cups of coffee and determination. Tony knew this as well, so he cleaned up his beard and showered, washing off two weeks worth of life from his body. He then slept for so long, Clint had been certain he was dead and that the endless coffee was to blame. Of course, he had woken up, taken a brief, cold, wash, and joined the rest of the team.

They had a shit ton of work to do.

After a week, they found out that Peter had taken a bus out of New York, and was likely in Oklahoma, a place travelled through in order to get to Mexico- the bus's destination. They were searching every new document, every purchase, and every security camera in the area. They found someone of around Peter's height and stature was hanging around a small section of Stillwater. The figure was seen entering a convenience store every morning, very early, and staying in there until very late or the next day. The suspect seemed to keep his head down at all times- especially recently, where he could be seen wearing a hood at all times. Looking back on old footage, he found a few, grainy frames where possibly-Peter's face was shown very clearly to the camera. Zooming in, he knew who he was looking at.

Tony called out to the rest of the team. They'd found him. Natasha immediately pulled up the store's files and found that one Jeremy J. Smith had been recently hired around the same time Peter had disappeared, and had the same work hours as Peter did.

 _That smart fucking cookie_ , Tony couldn't help but think as a smile formed on his face.

They found his son.

* * *

He dyed his hair black. He wore makeup. He couldn't risk  _anyone_ finding out who he is.

His boss was suspicious, of course, but Peter claimed that he was just going through a goth phase. His boss still looked worried, but shrugged it off. Peter's smile dropped from his face as soon as his boss's back was turned. Fucking Tony Stark. He just  _had_ to fuck everything up, didn't he? 

He didn't hold back. He drew on with black marker a fake moustache, which his boss had simply raised an eyebrow at. Peter had shot him a pair of finger guns and grinned, hoping he came across as easygoing and happy. He hoped all of his inner turmoil wasn't visible.

* * *

 

They gathered everyone and everything they could as fast as physically possible. There was no use in going slow and steady, there was still a child to be retrieved. Tony called Helen Cho- what if Peter needed medical attention? He didn't like the thought of that, but it was better safe than sorry, after all. Still, the mere thought of Peter being horrifically hurt sent Tony into a panic.

Clint put his hand on Tony's shoulder before he was too far gone and assured him that it was all going to be okay. He told him that they were about to go find Peter, and it was going to be okay. It was all going to be alright. It just had to be.

He just hoped he was right.

* * *

 

Peter was shattering. Even after wearing his new disguise for a full week, people were still recognising him. Comments of "oh, you look like the kid the Avengers are looking for"s plagued him almost every day.

He was so afraid, and there was nothing anyone could do about it. He was alone, and the solitude was sending him spiraling down into a living hell. He fell deeper every day, toxic, whispering thoughts creeping at the edge of his mind, and he felt so overwhelmed. There was nothing left for him. Not here, at least.

The flames of despair wrapped their horrible, mangly hands around Peter and pulled him down, his skin sizzling with dark, unwanted thoughts. He brought the pocket knife down on his arm, and the sight of his own blood dripping from the wound still shocked him, even after all this time. He wasn't even crying. He couldn't bring himself to. He just felt so  _empty_.

He had no purpose. He had no reason. Not to mention, he was a dangerous menace to society, and everyone would be happy to have him gone. There was no reason for him to keep going, no reason for him to continue. He had no one left.

With one, final thought, he decided.

He placed the tip of the knife at the top of his wrist, and pushed it in deep, dragging it down through his arm.

It was finally going to be over...

* * *

Despite how much relief had flooded through him with finding where Peter was, he was still filled with dread. He put on the Iron Man suit, and flew off, the rest of the team in the Quinjet not far behind him.

When Tony had finally arrived at the roof where Peter was sleeping, his heart nearly stopped in his chest.

There was Peter, lying in a pool of his own blood. At first, Tony was hit with the realisation that Peter may well be dead. However, when he landed and came closer to the child, he saw his short, shallow breaths being shown by the slight rise and fall of his chest, and how his arm was slowly but surely healing already. This must not have been long ago.

Tony lifted up Peter, and slung his bag over his back. Peter would want that. Flying back to the Quinjet, he burst in and told them with much urgency that Peter needed immediate medical attention.

It was going to be a long trip back. They'd be okay in the end, though.

...

_Right?_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing will get better if you try to hurt yourself, so please don't. It's not worth the guilt and the pain that comes with it, and the best thing you can do is get help.
> 
> Suicide isn't nice. It's bloody and horrible, and it does nothing but hurt people. It's awful, and I hope it doesn't come across as romanticised in this fic.
> 
> There's someone out there who cares about you, even if you haven't met them yet. If you want to hurt yourself and/or kill yourself, please find someone. You're not worthless. You're not a burden. People care about you, you just don't know it. No one will be 'better off' if you're dead, and you don't deserve to be hurt.
> 
> Stay strong. It'll get better.


	7. Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for panic attacks, referenced attempted suicide, and self hatred.
> 
> Please read the end notes.

When Peter first began to come to, all he could register was the pure, unbridled pain searing in his left arm. At first, he didn't know what was going on. His vision was blurry and for a moment he didn't know where he was or  _why_ he was. He heard the sound of a monitor beeping and could make out the white walls of a hospital. Instantly, he was sent into a panic, although he didn't know why until it hit him with a metal bat.

May is dead.

Suddenly, the events of the past month and a half came flooding back, memories swirling around in his head. The hospital, the apartment, the bus, Oklahoma, the store, the roof, the  _knife_. It all came back, and all he could feel was confusion and an unnamed panic as to why he wasn't dead. He someone found him? Had someone taken him to the hospital? If so, did they find out who he was? Did they alert the Avengers? The questions raced around his brain and his breathing quickened.

 _"Peter, breathe."_ a voice Peter couldn't place soothed. Whoever it was was grounding him, bringing him back. He opened he teary eyes and looked up at the face of his mentor, whom he had not seen since May died. And, suddenly, he started panicking again.

"Holy-- Peter! Look at me! You're alright, just breathe with me. Match my pace." Tony took big, deep breaths and exhaled with purpose. Peter, who was now crying, tried his best to make his shakey, uneven breathing more like Tony's. "There you are, kid. Jesus, haven't you scared me enough already?"

The tone had been joking, but all Peter could do was look down.

"Hey, Pete. Look at me. I'm not mad, I just want to know  _why_. Why didn't you come to me? Why didn't you want to be found? Don't think I haven't noticed the appearance changes. And, why did you..." Tony trailed off, not wanting to say it out loud. "I just want to help you. I care about you and I need to know so I can. You don't have to right away, but please, eventually." 

Peter could only bring himself to give his mentor a little nod. Tony pulled Peter in for a hug, which the latter graciously accepted. They stayed like that for a while.

* * *

 If there was one thing Tony really hadn't wanted to do in his lifetime, carrying his kid's near lifeless body to a jet to get immediate medical attention for the fact that he was bleeding out was probably it. After fully registering that the child had done this to himself, Tony had simply sat in his room a brooded for a while. He shed a few tears, but he was never known to be too emotional. What got him was why the kid had disguised himself. He didn't understand why Peter hadn't wanted to be found. Tony clearly cared enough about him to file a missing persons report, and Peter had clearly seen it, so why hadn't Peter turned himself in?

Of course, that was completely glossed over by the bigger question. One that Tony really didn't want to think about, but had to anyway.

He hated it. He hated that his kid had tried to  _kill_ himself, and he hadn't even been there for him. Tony felt so unbelievably guilty for not having gotten to him faster. After finding his location, Tony had stopped rushing as much, and now his kid was...

Helen had said that Peter was stable, but that he also lost a lot of blood. She also had pulled him to the side and asked if the child she was currently treating was Spider-man. She had taken Tony's silence as a yes. He'd immediately told Helen not to tell the others, as it was  _Peter's_ identity and therefore  _his_ decision and reveal. Helen had agreed without hesitation.

When he heard a loud clatter originating from where Peter was, he had ran to where Peter was and the sight of this panicked teenager made his heart ache.

There was a lot of things they had to sort out.

* * *

Peter clung to Tony. He clung to him as if his life depended on it. It had been  _so long_ since Peter had shared  _any_ sort of physical affection with someone. And, god, it felt so good. It felt so good to know that he was loved and wanted and cared about. Warmth spread through his body as he choked back sobs, and he just nuzzled his head into the crook of Tony's neck. He was not reluctant to hold Peter even tighter.

If Peter heard the multiple new presences entering the room, he chose not to acknowledge it. That was, until someone broke the tearful silence.

"So this is the kid?"

Peter looked up to see the one and only  _Falcon_ talking to him. Peter's heart skipped a beat, and the heart monitor beside him picked up on it.

 _Great fucking job, worm,_ his mind chided.  _They probably think you're_ so _cool. I wouldn't be surprised if they didn't help Tony look for you. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if they told Tony to just give up! And who knows, maybe Tony listened, and it was only when they were tipped off about your whereabouts that they came for you. I bet they think you're pathetic for trying to kill yourself. You should've stayed dead._

 _No! No, they don't think that. Tony doesn't think that. He saved you, he wouldn't have bothered if he didn't care. And they don't look like they hate you!_ Peter had his doubts, but he wanted to listen to the voice telling him that Tony cared.

_Don't be fucking ridiculous. He's kind of obligated to care about you, you're Spider-man. That's it. You're an asset. Nothing more, nothing less._

As Peter's thoughts spiralled down further and further, Tony's response to Sam jolted him out of the internal argument going on in his mind. Tony pulled away and turned to look at the rest of the team, which were now all gathered in the small room.

"Yeah, this is Peter. Pete, say hi." Tony gestured to the group.

"H-hi... I'm Peter Parker or... uhm, you-you probably already know that, and Mr. Stark just- Mr. Stark just introduced me whichmeansyoudefinitelyalreadyknowmynameandI'msorryforwastingyourtimeand-"

"Woah, woah woah. Slow down there, squirt. You're fine." Hawkeye smiled down at him. "It's nice to finally meet you. Stark's told us aaaaaall about you." He stuck his hand out, and Peter immediately returned the greeting.

"Nice to-nice to meet you too, Mr. Barton." Peter gave an awkward wave, smile plastered on his face.

"Cut it with the "Mr. Barton" bullshit. The name's Clint." The blond archer grinned.

"O-oh, okay Clint." 

"Oh, seriously kid? I've known you for nearly a year and you still call me 'Mr. Stark' no matter how many times I tell you not to."

Peter laughed a little, but returned his gaze to the floor.

It was going to be a long day.

_You're pathetic. You really think they care? After you threw everything you were given away? After you tried to die? Oh yes, also, where are you going to live? With Tony?_

_Good luck with that..._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Panic attacks aren't "pretty". Anxiety isn't "pretty". Self-hatred isn't "pretty". None of this is "pretty", and I want to make sure it doesn't come across as such.
> 
> If you feel at all like Peter does in this fic, please seek help. It isn't shameful or weak, if anything, it's pretty freaking strong. Peter should have sought out help, and you should too. Running away isn't the answer. Self harm isn't the answer. Suicide isn't the answer. There are people out there who care about you and want to help you, even if you haven't found them yet.
> 
> Please don't give up.


	8. Reconciliation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for referenced self harm, referenced attempted suicide, and self hatred.
> 
> Please read the end notes.

It had been a week since he'd been found. Peter wouldn't tell anyone, but he felt a little better now that his mentor had come to help him. Of course, that made him feel even more guilty, but he tried his hardest not to think about that. He had managed to convince Tony not to get him a psychiatrist, claiming that now Tony was here, he was all better.

He wasn't.

He lay down, making a starfish across his bed. Deep down in the depths of his mind, he knew he didn't deserve this. He's done nothing but cause heartache and hurt the people around him. The look on Tony's face when he'd first seen him still haunts him to this day. Not to mention, he has yet to tell Tony 'why', which was something Tony just wouldn't let go, no matter how much Peter wanted him to. 

Tears made their way down his face. Why did he have to be such a screw up? Why did he have to be such a burden? He had ran away in order to save everyone from his stupid, ridiculous life and to stop them from caring. He had ran away because he had nowhere else to go and he refused to be more of a weight on Tony's shoulders than he already was. And now, look at him! Doing exactly what he'd been avoiding. His stomach twisted into knots, and there was a ball of fire at the back of his throat. He curled in on himself, unable to contain it any longer. He cried out, mostly hoping no one would hear him.

And, they didn't. No one came riding in as his knight in shining armour. A selfish part of him had hoped that someone would hear, that someone would care and haul him out of this rut he was stuck in. But he knew that wouldn't happen. He was a worthless waste of space and oxygen, and he should have died on the rooftop. He didn't deserve to be alive, much less living in the Avengers Tower. He dragged everyone around him down, and it was no wonder May died just to get away from him. Flash had always said that's why Ben had died, so why wouldn't May, too? So, getting up, his limbs moved without him wanting them to. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and gazed at the floor. He put one foot on the soft, silky carpet, and then the other. Slowly making his way to the bathroom, he felt how smooth and calming the carpet felt beneath his feet. Part of him wanted to stay right there and forget about everything, but he didn't. Continuing forwards, his emotions nullified as he found a shaving razor and broke it with ease. 

* * *

This kid was going to be the end of him. The child seemed to believe with all of his heart that he didn't deserve to be loved, and Tony honestly had half a mind to tell the child just how ridiculous that was.  _Everyone_ deserves to be loved. Except maybe Hitler, and a couple of other people. And, not to mention, but the kid claimed that he was 'fine' now. That he didn't need a psychiatrist or a therapist or anything, which was complete and utter  _bullshit_ , because you don't just try to kill yourself and then immediately after you're 'fine'. He knew something was off, but decided to give the kid space. Peter didn't need Tony pressing him and repeatedly asking why he'd tried to kill himself. Tony gave the kid a nice, long two weeks to figure it out. Left him alone, so he could calm down a bit. Which was, honestly, the biggest mistake of Tony's life.

So, it really shouldn't have come as a surprise when he found out about Peter's new, horrible habit. The team and Peter had just finished eating, and Natasha was collecting the plates. Peter had gone to give her his plate, but his sleeve had ridden up just a bit, revealing multiple red, angry cuts along the inside of his arm. Natasha's eyes had widened, and she'd looked at Tony in shock and concern, but shook it off. Peter didn't seem to notice how tense the entire room had gotten, and how everyone was now looking at each other, worried. Tony tapped Peter's shoulder.

"Can I talk to you for a moment, kid?" Tony blinked back tears that were gathering in his eyes. Peter nodded, and followed him out into the hall. Tony took a deep breath.

"Peter... Let me see you arm, please." Peter had immediately tensed up, panicking.

"Wh-what? Why?? I'm, there's nothing there, I'm--" Tony cut him off.

"Kid, I saw when you handed your plate to Natasha. I'm-I'm not mad. I'm just worried. Please let me see." Tony braced himself as Peter gave in and held out his right wrist for him to see. Pulling the sleeve back, Tony's eyes watered. There weren't that many, but it still upset him. What was even worse was that Tony knew that Peter was right handed, so the majority of them were likely to be on his left wrist. He slowly reached for Peter's other arm, but he immediately recoiled at Tony's motion.

"No." Peter's voice was shaky, like he was afraid.

"Pete, please. I just need to see so I can help you." Tony tried again, but Peter refused. It broke Tony's heart to see Peter so shattered and depressed, because all he could remember was how happy and excited this boy used to be. So, Tony did the only thing he could think of. He pulled Peter into his embrace, and held the child as if he were his own.

"We're gonna help you, Pete. I swear on my life, we're gonna help you." Tony paused, before coming to a conclusion. "We all love you, kid. I love you. It's gonna get better, I promise. We'll be there for you."

This was all Peter could take, because he just let his whole body go limp and sobbed as Tony held him. Neither of them knew how long the hug went on for, but there was no denying just how far Tony would go to make sure Peter knew how much he cared about him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a thing that I feel needs to be stated- it isn't selfish to want to be cared about or weak to need help! We are social creatures and cannot survive without the love and affection from others. We need constant validation and warmth and reminders that we are loved by those around us. And sometimes, we need help, and that's okay. I mean, originally, we were social purely so we can help each other. We used to hunt in packs, and eventually, when civilisation really started, the survival of everyone depended on one another. We needed to work together. We could not live in this world with each other's help, so don't ever be afraid to reach out. The people who truly care about you will help you no matter what, and there will always be someone out there willing to lift you up when you've fallen too far down to get out on your own.
> 
> It sounds kinda cheesy, but I don't want people to take what is said in this chapter or any of these chapters the wrong way. When it says that it's "selfish" to want to be cared about, that's Peter's thoughts, not reality. His mind is clouded with self hatred and he's unable to come to rational decisions. Which is why he needs Tony and the Avengers to help him realise that it's perfectly okay to need help, and perfectly okay to want to be loved and cared about.


	9. Cooperation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for referenced self harm, referenced attempted suicide, and self hatred.
> 
> Please read the end notes.

If you'd told Tony ten years ago that he'd get attached to a child he'd originally used as an asset, he would have scoffed. If you'd told him that he'd also carry the limp, near lifeless body of said child to a jet to get immediate medical attention, he would have simply shook his head. If you'd told him that he'd have to pick up the metaphorical pieces of the now heartbroken, shattered child who was suffering from severe depression, he would have flipped you off and told you that he's got to deal with his own mental problems before he helps anyone else.

Of course, ten years ago Tony didn't know the now Tony, and he hadn't met Peter either. And, Tony was, without a doubt, determined to help Peter. He was going to make sure that his kid got better, even if it took years of CBT. Tony was ready and he knew what he was going to do.

He was going to make sure that Peter had a 100% sound support system. He was going to make sure that the kid felt loved and cared for. He was going to make sure that the memory of May lived on, and he was going to make sure that Peter lived on with that memory.

* * *

Tony looked at his therapist, twiddling his thumbs.

"Long time no see, Tony. Let's get straight to it. What's been going on recently? I heard about the, um, Civil War. Do you want to talk about that?" The woman gazed at him, waiting for a response. The silence drew out, and Tony knew that he had to answer. That's the way therapists did their thing- they didn't continue until you said something. 

"Yes, and no. I'm here to talk about some other things, too, Dr. Sarot. We can get into the events of the 'Civil War' later. Do you know Spider-man?" Tony inquired. He trusted her, he really did. He knew she was great with kids, too, so it shouldn't be too bad. Although, there was always other options if necessary.

"Yes. Though, he's been gone for a while. What about him?"

"Well, he's, ah, quite young. 15, to be exact. And yes, I am aware of how irresponsible bringing him in to fight the Avengers was. I've already had that conversation multiple times with myself and others. I'm here because about a month and a bit ago, he lost his last living family member. Me, being the idiot I am, was too wrapped up in getting the other Avengers pardoned to notice. So, when they finally were, I was rather shocked to find out that his aunt had died two weeks prior. I couldn't find him, because he's a smartass cookie and knows how to hide when he doesn't want to be found, and I panicked. With the help of the team, though, we were able to find him." Tony sucked in an unsteady breath. "We flew to his whereabouts on a private jet, Dr. Helen Cho with us in case he was hurt. It was lucky that we made that decision because we found him bleeding out on top of some apartment complex. He had tried to kill himself. We gave him immediate medical attention, and he woke up just a small while after thanks to his advanced healing. I gave him a week to recalibrate, but... I found out the other day that he's been hurting himself, again. I knew I'd have to get him a therapist eventually when I first found out he was missing, because pseudo-familial support can only go so far, and, well. Here we are."

Dr. Sarot took a moment to process all of the information she'd just received. She took another to wrangle a reasonable response together. "So, long story short. Spider-man is suicidal and severely depressed, and you're here because you trust me to help him?"

 _Well, that's rather blunt. But, true_. Tony nodded. 

"Is he aware of this?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Of course. He didn't object, although he wasn't too ecstatic about it. I can't imagine anyone would."

"Okay. Do you think I could see him later today?" Tony thought for a moment- he'd have to ask Peter, but it would probably work out.

"Yes, most likely."

"Good. Now that that's done, let's get to  _you_."

* * *

Peter's heart rate was much too high, even for a super-powered teen. His anxiety was through the roof. Tony had told Peter that he didn't need to feel pressured into doing anything he didn't want, and that he could back out at any time. Tony also told him that Dr. Sarot was his therapist, too, and that she's really a nice lady. It didn't help his rapidly increasing nervousness, though.

He knew that she knew he was Spider-man. He knew that she knew he'd tried to kill himself and all of his recent actions. And, god, he felt so  _ashamed_. He was so embarrassed, because he was weak and pathetic and had hurt himself without thinking of how it might affect others.

_I wonder what she thinks, given that you're supposedly a 'hero', and yet, you're so weak you couldn't handle a little death. Life's life, idiot. Get over it._

He contemplated turning back, but it was much too late. The door in front of him opened to reveal a tall, broad-shouldered woman.

"Hello, you must be Mr. Parker? Please, come in. I don't bite." She smiled at him, ushering him into the room.

* * *

After ten minutes of introducing themselves, they got on to the hard part.

"So, Mr. Parker, tell me some more about yourself and your feelings."

"P-please call me-call me Peter." He shivered. His stomach was in knots and there was a huge stone lying at the bottom of his gut. He took a while to tell her to call him Peter, for whatever reason. _Stupid_. He awaited doctor's response.

"Alright, Peter. So, tell me how you're feeling. Just, right now. Open, no repercussions." Peter knew that 'no repercussions' ended if he said anything that might say that he poses a threat to himself or others, as that was standard.

"N-nervous, to say the least. It kinda feels-feels like my stomach is doing backflips." He fidgeted with a loose thread on his jacket.

"Do you know why? If I may ask. Please, don't be afraid to tell me what you think." Dr. Sarot was treading carefully, making sure she didn't cross any lines.

"I mean, I know you know loads about me... I just. I feel kinda pathetic." Now, that got her attention.

"How so?"

"I just, I'm supposed to be this big, strong superhero, but I can't even help myself. How am I supposed to help others? Besides, you know I tried to take the easy, weak way out. I'm... kind of ashamed." Peter looked at the floor.

"Peter. Peter, look at me. It is not 'pathetic' to need help. I've seen the stuff you do, and I must say that from what it seems, you're one of the bravest people I've ever met. And I've met a lot of brave people. And, while trying to kill yourself may not have been your strongest point, and hurting yourself isn't going to help, you're getting help, which is the first big step. You're opening up really quickly to me, as well, so I know that you are really courageous. It usually takes people a lot longer to tell me how they feel, and you've done it on your first visit. You are strong. Trying to commit suicide and hurting yourself wasn't strong, but you are for trying and continuing even when you didn't want to. We're going to help you feel better, and we're going to make sure that when an event happens, you don't immediately start beating yourself up about it. And that's what I'm here for." Dr. Sarot smiled, and took Peter's hand. "You're going to be okay. I promise." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I feel like some things need to be said. The whole pathetic and weak thing is all Peter's thoughts, and none of it is true. 
> 
> If you've hurt yourself or tried to kill yourself, you don't need to feel ashamed. It's not weak, and it's not pathetic. It wasn't the best move on your part, and I am in no way saying it was a good thing or whatever, but you shouldn't have to feel embarrassed about it. It happened, and you've learned something from it.
> 
> Also, I don't want to romanticise this in any way! Self harm isn't beautiful or poetic in any way. It's 'gorey' and 'terrifying'- there's nothing 'sweet' or 'aesthetic' about it. It's a horrible, horrible truth that some people feel the need to damage themselves. However, you shouldn't feel ashamed about it. What's done is done. 
> 
> And, yes, it may have also hurt those around you, but you shouldn't feel bad about something you can't change. All you can do now is try to move on and be brave enough to continue through the ridiculously rocky road that is life. That's the best thing you can do for yourself and others. That, and to never be afraid to seek help when things get rough. 
> 
> Please. Being better is what I want to 'romanticise'. I want to emphasise that being content is our true goal, and if you've gotten there, you are an amazing human being and you should wear it proudly. Wear it with pride, and now help those around you who haven't gotten there yet feel better. Help them up, help them get to where you are. We can all do this.


	10. Recreation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for referenced self harm, referenced attempted suicide, etc.
> 
> Please read the end notes, and stay safe.

Peter hated this.

He hated that he was constantly monitored. He hated the stupid watch on his wrist that let anyone know if he was harmed in any way or if his heart rate got too high. He hated the dumb pills he'd decidedly stopped taking after a couple of days. He hated Tony fucking Stark and the Avengers. He hated that they cared about him. He hated Spider-man. He hated Dr. Sarot and her stupid "it'll get better"s. He hated it all because it wasn't better yet, and he didn't  _care_ about the future. He doesn't feel good now and that's what mattered most.

He hated that he wasn't allowed to touch anything even remotely sharp. He despised how everyone seemed to walk on eggshells around him. He just wanted to be happy again, to have things go back to the way they were. He just wanted May back. Of course, May wasn't back. And she wasn't gonna  _be_ back, ever. May was gone and so was every chance he had at being happy.

However, more than anything, he hated Peter Parker. He hated how stupid and pathetic he was. He was nothing.

But, suddenly, the hate darted away for a second, and a small, fleeting memory that resonated at the back of his mind replaced it. The memory whispered in his ears and wrapped its warm arms around him. He pictured May gently stroking his face, wiping away his tears. He pictured her soft, light touch dancing smoothly across his cheek. He looked up into not-May's eyes and watched them sparkle, watched as the vision disappeared, leaving her hand as just an echo on his skin. Then, her faint but sweet words eased him.

_No. You're not, you just think you are. No one hates you other than you. You're the only one who doesn't like you. You're the only one who thinks you're pathetic. It's going to get better. It has to._

Water pooled in his eyes as he imagined May pressing her lips to his forehead, reminding him it was okay to be scared. A sob escaped his lips. Not-May became cold and she faded, something darker replacing her.

_You don't really believe that, do you? May's **dead**. She's gone, remember, and. You. Know. Why. She killed herself in that car crash to get away from you, just like Ben, just like your parents. You ruin everything. No one wants you around, not really. Tony's only keeping you around so you are forced to deal with the consequences of your actions, not because he cares. You're nothing. You'll always be nothing. If you were gone, no one would even care._

Peter shook his head, and the cold grip Flash's previous words had on him tightened. He shivered, his hairs standing on end for a split second as his mood reflected on him physically. A warmth spread over him.

_You know that's not why. Flash lied to you. He was a bully, and nothing of what he said was true. He doesn't even know how much Ben loved you. And you know that despite having never truly met them, your parents loved you too. You don't need to be scared that they don't care. You don't need to hate the Avengers. They're here to help. And, they care. They wouldn't be helping you if they didn't._

For once, the colder, darker voice didn't respond. It tried to, but Peter shut it out, squeezing his eyes. He screwed them shut and told that awful voice in his head that he wasn't dealing with its shit, not today. He hung onto not-May's words and held them to his heart, never letting go.

_They care. They have to._

* * *

Tony let out a long, hard sigh. Peter's best friend, Ned, wanted to see him. It hadn't taken long for the teen to wriggle his way through multiple fake numbers and annoyed secretaries to get to Tony's cell, and it left him wondering if he should make it harder. Either way, there was no way for Tony to respond with anything other than "yes", so it was a date. Problem was, though, Peter's best friend since god-knows-when wanted to see him  _today_.

And after the fiasco that was finding out about Peter and getting him to a therapist, Tony had forgotten to tell Peter. And Tony knew that every moment he procrastinated telling him was less time for Peter to prepare.

So, Tony counted as he inhaled and exhaled, relaxing himself with the deep breaths. Reaching forward for the doorknob, he silently noted that his hand was shaking. He slowly twisted the knob and opened the door.

Tony stepped into the room with light footsteps, hoping not to startle Peter. The spider-kid usually could tell when a person was approaching, but he seemed lost in thought. Tony let the door behind him click shut quietly. Peter whipped around, surprised. They locked eyes for a moment before Peter looked away and wiped away a stray tear. He only looked up again Tony sat beside him on the bed, sinking into the soft fabric almost instantly. Peter's eyes weren't too red, but still noticeable. Peter sniffled.

"Hey, kiddo. Everything, uh, alright?" Tony spoke softly, putting his hand on Peter's back gently.

"Y-yeah. I think so." Peter gave a light chuckle, and leant onto Tony's chest.

"I, uh, hate to just dump all this on you, but Ned is coming today." Peter immediately stiffened, jerking his head away and looking right at Tony. 

"What?" Peter inquired, incredulous.

"Yeah, he somehow got through to me and demanded to see you. Of course, what, with everything, I may... have forgotten to tell you."

"Well,  _clearly_! Oh my god, Mr. Stark! What am I gonna do! I'm not ready for this, oh my god!" Peter held his head in his hands, gripping his hair. Tony stood up and tried to calm him down.

"Woah, woah, woah! Kid, calm down, it's okay, it's gonna be okay. He's your best friend, remember? It'll be fine."

"You don't know that,  _you don't know that_!" Peter began hyperventilating.

"Kid, look at me. Breath. In, one, two, three, four. Out, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Again, now, kiddo. In, one, two, three, four, and out, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Keep going, you're doing great." Tony breathed in and out with Peter. 

"I can't believe you." Peter deadpanned as soon as he was completely calmed down.

"Yeah, kid, I can't believe me either." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People care about you. There's at least one person who would miss you dearly if you died, so if you won't live for yourself, live for that person. Live to prove to yourself that you deserve to be cared about. You can do this.
> 
> As a side tip, if you can, try to exhale for longer than you inhaled. It's really helpful if you're trying to relax and calm down, if you're panicking.


	11. Revelation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for referenced suicide attempt, depression, and self hatred.
> 
>  
> 
> Read through the dialogue carefully.  
> Please stay safe.

Ned played with his fingers impatiently. Tony Stark stood tall beside him. Under normal circumstances, Ned would have been freaking out over being next to  _the_ Tony Stark. However, these weren't normal circumstances, and the man was the same one who had been trying to prevent him from seeing his best friend.

Ned didn't know what happened, not really. He understood that there was more to the situation than what the outside world had been speculating. He didn't know for sure that Peter wasn't kidnapped, but Ned didn't like alternative, so he refrained from giving it too much thought. It would all be clear shortly, anyway. This, though, didn't stop the teen from worrying. He knew that whatever had happened was sure to have left a mental scar on Peter. Not to mention, Tony was refusing to give Ned any information, which frustrated him to no end. Couldn't Tony see that Ned just needed a solid answer, not a super in depth explanation as to what happened? He just wanted to know if his friend was okay, and-

The elevator came to a grinding halt. The metal doors opened, revealing a room full of heroes. Ned fanboyed a little, but stayed focused on the task at hand. Tony Stark took a few steps forward, and Ned followed suit. A few of the Avengers' heads turned, but they looked back to what they had been doing not long after. Perhaps they knew why he was there.

Ned gazed at the open, spacious room. Peter was not there, so his attention drifted to the billionaire who was making his way down a hallway. Ned jogged a bit to catch up quickly, and was led to a closed door which he assumed was Peter's room. Tony knocked and spoke.

"Pete, kid? Ted is here." He called.

"C-coming!" came Peter's muffled response.

The door opened, revealing the teen in question. He was somewhat skinnier that Ned remembered, and there were dark, poorly hidden bags under his eyes. Something about his eyes felt more gloomy than usual, and Ned realised that the happy spark that once resided in them seemed to have been dulled. Ned opened his mouth to speak.

"Hey, Peter. Long time no see, huh?"

Peter nodded solemnly, and moved so as to let Ned into the room. Tony whispered something that only Peter could hear, and presumably started walking back to what had appeared to be a living room.

* * *

 

"Do, you, uh, wanna tell me what happened? I don't exactly know, but if it's too, y'know, difficult, you don't have to." Ned awkwardly got quieter at the end. He wasn't sure how to approach this. What Ned had said seemed to make Peter physically tense up, and he didn't want to make his friend uncomfortable.

"No, no, I... I should tell you. My th-therapist, uh, says that being able to describe what had occured is a very big st-step in accepting what had happened." Peter fiddled with his thumbs and moved to sit on the bed. He looked at Ned expectantly, and he joined him.

"So..." Ned started, unsure of what he was meant to do.

"So. M-May, uh..." Peter started tearing up immediately. "God, already? I really am p-pathetic."

"No, you're not, Pete. I don't know what you're implying but whatever happened is clearly very upsetting. It's okay- it's okay to cry. So what happened with May? I've actually been trying to get in contact with her, but-"

"May's dead." Peter set his gaze on the floor. "Died about six weeks ago. I-I-I... She's gone..."

"Oh my god, Peter..." Ned started, and hesitantly embraced Peter. Quietly, Ned whispered, "You can cry. I know you're probably holding it in like you did with Ben. You don't have to."

And Peter didn't. He didn't hold back. When May had died, a part of him had died with her. Part of him he'd never get back. So Peter held onto Ned and wept, letting out emotions he had tried so hard to keep under lock and key.

They stayed like that for a while, Ned holding Peter as he sobbed, grieving for all he'd lost. Until Peter pulled away, and took a deep breath.

"Sorry, I- I got not even a s-sentence in and started crying." Peter's voice wobbled and he dried his eyes with the palms of his hands. "I-I'm so p-"

"Stop right there." Peter's gaze snapped up and met Ned's stern eyes. Part of him felt somewhat frightened, but Peter dismissed those feelings; Ned was his best friend. "You've gotta stop saying that. I think I can actually hear you screaming those three words in your head, 'I'm so pathetic', and that couldn't be further from the truth. Pete, I still don't know what happened over the last six months, but I  _do_ know that you are literally the least pathetic person I've, like, ever met, dude. And I don't mean Spider-man. Because without Peter Parker, Spider-man is nothing. Without you and your dumb, ridiculously selfless, kind, and caring heart, Spider-man would be nothing. You've seen and been through so much shit, man, and I don't even know the half of it, but you've stayed strong throughout it all. Things that have been the traumatic event that made other people turn to crime and hurting others you've stayed brave and courageous through. You're not pathetic." Ned took a deep breath. "You've been through it all. Your parents, Skip, the Stark Expo, the constant bullying you're subject to, your uncle, the fucked up shit you see out as Spider-man, and now your aunt? You've been through ten times the amount of trauma any person should ever have to go through and yet you've powered through it. And I've been there next to you for long enough to know that you've wanted to give up at times. To know that you considered many different paths, most of which end in... But, man, you've never given in to those feelings before. You've tr-"

"But I did." Peter's voice was so small that Ned nearly didn't hear it, but he cut himself off nonetheless. 

"What...?" Ned inquired, confused.

"I gave in. When May... when, when she di-died... I didn't wanna bother Mr. Stark 'cause every-everything he was doing was so much more i-i-important than me that I-that I just... I ran away... I ran to Oklahoma and I got a job and..." Peter sniffled. "I stayed there for a while but after some time it just got too much. People were looking for me 'nd I was  _so alone_ , Ned, there was no one but I couldn't bring myself to go back because-be- because who would want a super-powered, severely depressed orphan who was too fucking stubborn to give in until they just couldn't be strong anymore and- and I--!"

Ned grabbed Peter's hand and pulled it towards him. Ned looked Peter right in the eyes, and spoke slowly and clearly.

"Look at me, Peter. That does not matter. You are still the strongest person I have ever met. No matter what happened or what you did. Because, even if you are a super-powered, depressed orphan who was so stubborn they ran themselves into the ground, you're still strong. You showed weakness but if anything, that just proves how strong you are. You're still here, and you're still going, even if you needed and still need help to do so. Needing help isn't weak, and showing weakness is one of the strongest things you can do."

"B-but, Ned, I-I tried to... to, to... I tried to die. How on Earth can I be...?" Peter stared back at his best friend with eyes filled with tears that threatened to spill.

"Because you're here. With me, and Tony Stark, and the Avengers, and we all care about you. Even if you tried to take the... easy way out. You're still here and alive and you're still going. Not only that, but you're trying your damnedest to get better and if that isn't the definition of courage I don't know what is. Life fucking sucks. I know that. Especially when you've lost as much as you have. But there's people around us all who care and want us all to get better, so that makes life suck a little less. And in the end, things will get better. I know they will. Because they have to. You said that you're seeing a therapist and that means that you're trying to get better, and that isn't going to just do nothing. You're tryin to get better and you will, because this isn't one of those things that can fail. There will be progress, no matter what, as long as you try. And because you're you, I know you're going to keep trying because that's what you do. Yes, you tried to kill yourself, but that doesn't make you any less of a person. It doesn't help, but it was a slip up you can work past. I know you can. And you know how I know? Because you're Peter Parker. And Peter Parker is the bravest person I know."

There was a quiet that hung for a while after Ned stopped talking that disappeared once Peter practically threw himself at Ned. He hugged him as if he were afraid that if he didn't hold on, Ned would leave. Ned returned the hug, and the two teens stayed there with each other in a comfortable silence.

Things were going to get better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't give up. It'll be okay.


	12. Evaluation

Things weren't all bad, really. You just had to give them a little time and accept that they'll never be perfect.

Peter stepped out into the cold, biting winter morning atmosphere. He took a deep breath in, icy air flowing into his nostrils, sharp and crisp. Peter felt a bittersweet smile tug at the corners of his lips- it felt just like the night that May had died. He let out a sigh, his hot breath clouding the space in front of him like dragon breath. It had been a year since it had all happened. It was still sore, and Peter suspected that it would always be, not unlike Ben's death; however, it no longer felt like an infected would, festering and waiting for someone to lightly touch it and set it off. No, it no longer felt like the air was being kicked out of him every time he thought of her. His heart still ached and a couple tears still gathered in the corner of his eyes, but it wasn't like someone swung a metal bat into his stomach with every mention of her name. Not anymore, at least.

He shivered, the unkind and frosty wind stabbing his skin with billions of tiny little knives. 

 _Not weather for old people. Goes right through you._ He noted, snorting to himself when an image of Tony Stark popped in his head at the thought of old people. He silently cursed the creature that had bit him all that time ago for not being an animal with the ability to thermoregulate.

Looking up at the sky, he proceeded onwards to his destination, hoping the movement might warm him up. Pepper had told him to put on warmer clothes, but he hadn't listened, and there was no way to go back now and still retain his pride. So, he kept walking, putting one foot in front of the other. Peter took in the sights around him, watching as people scurried by. It being New York, people always seemed to have somewhere to be. No one ever stopped to take in the view, never bothered to say "hi" to a food truck vendor. No one spared anything a second glance, and for so long, too long, so had he.

But, after a while, he learned how to just stop and appreciate things for what they are. He had spent so long focusing on how everything was going wrong that he had nearly lost himself in his own mess of problems. And, sometimes things are going to suck- it's just something you have to accept. Nothing is ever going to be perfect, and he knew that. He knew that there was always going to be problems with the world. There was always going to be bad people and bad things. It's just the way of the world. There's no such thing as utopia, and all these problems sure as hell don't have a simple solution. Nothing ever does.

Peter still had endless nightmares. There's still times where he feels like he ought to not be here, like he's better off dead, but that's depression for you. He usually, when he feels particularly sad, goes to one of his new family members for support. They always ask what's wrong, but will drop it if he says he just needs a hug. And Peter, being a ridiculously affectionate person, always bathed in the physical ways they showed they loved him, whether it be a hug or a pat on the back.

They were his family. He'd never forget his old family, but he was forever grateful for his new one.

Sometimes he wonders if they actually enjoy having him around, or if he's actually worth anything. He thinks that maybe it's a show put on because they're nice people. But he always shakes those feelings off because he knows it's not true. Because they go out of their way to talk to him and be around him. Not just because they're 'obligated' to, but because they want to. There's so many times that the conversation or the entire interaction could have easily ended, but they continued it anyway because they  _wanted_ to.

He always remembers that when he feels down. He remembers that there's no plausible way that they didn't like him, because their interactions stated differently. And he loved them dearly- all of them.

Spider-man, after many months of absence, had come back in Queens. It was just a little bit of a hassle, given that he now lived in the tower (which Tony had bought back so they could all be closer to Queens, bless his soul), but it was fine. He loved helping people. He loved that he not only saved lives, but also just improved people's days, too. He always, multiple times a patrol, talks to some stranger. He has on more than one occasion talked people out of doing bad things to themselves by sharing his own experiences. And, sure, he'd probably never be a proper Avenger, but he was okay with that because he was helping. He was making people happy and that's more than he could have ever asked for. He was looking out for the little guy.

Not to mention his friends, _god,_ his friends! They were so supportive, constantly reassuring him. They always checked in on him and made sure he was doing okay. And, if he wasn't, they just sat with him and watched  _Friends_ or  _The Office_ or random internet videos with him to cheer him up. They never pressed too hard except when they were truly concerned. He didn't have many friends, and Flash was still kinda a dick to him, but Ned and MJ were the greatest friends he could possibly ask for.

As for Flash- well, Peter didn't like him much, but tried his best not to let his words get to him. Flash was just a high-school bully who didn't have all the details. Flash, in reality, knew nothing about Peter, so he couldn't take any of the things Flash said to heart. They still hurt, but Dr. Sarot had worked with him to help him push Flash aside. Besides, Flash probably had his own reasons for what he did. It may not condone or justify his behaviour, but whatever. Part of Peter hoped that maybe, one day, Flash realised what he was doing was wrong and stopped.

 _So, really, in conclusion: things weren't all shit._ Peter deduced as he rounded the corner and looked up at the school. The sign wasn't exactly brand-spanking-new, but it still clearly read " _MIDTOWN HIGH SCHOOL_ "with the words " _OF SCIENCE AND TECHNOLOGY_ " beneath it, albeit in smaller font. It looked as though it was slightly fogged over, but that may have just been Peter's eyes picking up on the miniscule amount of frost layering the sign.

Things weren't all bad, not really. You just had to give them a little time and accept that they'll never be perfect.


End file.
